I was returning to Toronto after a day teaching emergency services communicators (9-1-1 call takers and dispatchers) at Mohawk College in Hamilton. Coming out of the ramp from York Street to highway 403, I eased the steering wheel to the left and slowed for the sharp curve. Directly in front of me was one of those long, waist-high concrete road dividers. Someone had spray painted, in arterial blood red:
Jesus is Lord. Okay, whoever painted that wanted to testify. I get that. Someone else, however, had not understood.
With a couple of strokes of grape jelly purple paint, some enterprising wag with a sense of the ridiculous had changed the sign to read:
Jesus is Gord. Heresy? Perhaps, but it was very clever. I wondered for a moment what Gord-the-alt-Tagger looked like. All I could think of was musty blonde dreads hanging over a dead-band t-shirt, baggy shorts and floppy skatr-boi high tops with no laces.
Maybe if Jesus were around today he'd want something more contemporary and more distinctive than the moniker carried by 10 percent of the male Hispanic population! I accelerated out of the turn, wondering who Gord was and how he felt about the proclamation on the side of the road.
